Time After Time
‘I think Mr Lockwood has taken a fancy to you,’ Georgina informed Penelope as soon as they were alone. They walked the gardens of the Manor, enjoying the last rose blooms of the season. ‘I’
m sure you’re mistaken,’ Penelope replied, hoping just the opposite. ‘I think he is only being polite.’
‘I see how he looks at you. He doesn’t look like that at me — nor Annie — and he is just as polite with us. No, I do believe, my dear cousin, that you have your very first admirer.’
Penelope flushed with pleasure as she recalled Heath’s dark brown eyes and how he’d looked at her with such…She couldn’t find the right word. It wasn’t interest. It wasn’t admiration. It was something else entirely.
‘You like him too!’ cried Georgina, eyeing Penelope’s coloured cheeks.
‘How could I not? You, yourself pointed out how handsome he is. And agreeable. Many times.’
‘Yes, I suppose I did,’ Georgina frowned slightly before continuing, ‘but you know, I simply cannot find out anything about his family.’
‘It’s a delicate subject,’ Penelope observed. ‘Being an orphan must be difficult, and it’s amazing to hear he has no other kin to speak of, save a brother.’
‘Yes, I thought so, too. That’s why I have sent a note to my aunt in London to see what she can find out about Mr Heath Lockwood.’
‘Georgina, you didn’t!’ Georgina shrugged, looping her arm around Penelope’s. ‘Of course I did. Father would not want someone of questionable character staying in our home, I am sure. And as for Mr Lockwood, well, there is no point keeping secrets — if he has any. Everyone knows secrets always come out in the end.’
Something about the way Georgina said that made Penelope feel uneasy, her stomach performing a small flip in the pit of her belly. But she ignored it, spying a bright orange rose bloom and hurrying across the lawns to inhale its scent. ‘Look!’ she cried, ‘Isn’t it marvellous? I’ve not seen one this colour before.’
Georgina eyed it sadly. ‘That bush was Mama’s favourite. It hasn’t bloomed since she passed away. I think it has been in mourning, too.’
Penelope felt for her cousin. ‘You miss her still?’
‘Every day,’ Georgina nodded, ‘I miss her counsel and advice. She would know exactly what to do about Mr Lockwood.’
‘I’m not sure anything needs to be done.’
‘Oh Penelope, you are so naive!’ Georgina admonished. ‘Of course there is everything to be done. Mama would find out in an instant who he was, where he came from, who his parents were, and how much income he has.’
‘Well…’ ‘Mama would work him out well enough,’ Georgina continued confidently, ‘and advise whether he is good company to keep — or a good beau to pursue.’
‘I think it’s best to make a judgement when it’s not influenced by things such as money and family,’ Penelope said thoughtfully. ‘We should decide his character based on manners and countenance.’
Georgina sniffed. ‘Well, based on your theory we should all adore Mr Lockwood.’
‘Your father is a good, sensible man,’ Penelope continued, ignoring Georgina’s sarcasm, ‘and a good judge of character. He doesn’t seem to have any objections to Mr Lockwood, and neither does Harry.’
‘Harry would invite a tramp into the house if he thought it would upset me and give him a laugh,’ Georgina replied. ‘I’m not sure Harry is a good judge of character at all. But you are right about Father. He seems just as taken as the rest of us.’
‘Well, there you are,’ Penelope said, pleased and somewhat surprised by her eagerness to defend a man she barely knew. ‘And don’t forget you were singing his praises only a few days ago.’
‘I suppose I was. Still, I look forward to hearing from my aunt,’ Georgina added, ‘and I’m sure you are, too, my dear cousin. Despite your protests of good manners and countenance being enough!’
They had made their way back to the house when Penelope felt the slightest breeze rustle her skirts. She paused and turned, her arms traced with goosebumps.
‘What is it?’ Georgina asked. Penelope’s eyes scanned the wide expanse of lawn: the gardens, the hedgerows, the rose garden and the late, splendorous orange bloom. Nothing. There was nothing to make her uneasy, nothing to suggest anyone was there. Turning, she smiled at Georgina, pushing to the back of her mind the sudden chill, the inexplicable anxiety in her stomach, and the feeling they were being watched. ‘Nothing. It’s nothing at all.’
m sure you’re mistaken,’ Penelope replied, hoping just the opposite. ‘I think he is only being polite.’
‘I see how he looks at you. He doesn’t look like that at me — nor Annie — and he is just as polite with us. No, I do believe, my dear cousin, that you have your very first admirer.’
Penelope flushed with pleasure as she recalled Heath’s dark brown eyes and how he’d looked at her with such…She couldn’t find the right word. It wasn’t interest. It wasn’t admiration. It was something else entirely.
‘You like him too!’ cried Georgina, eyeing Penelope’s coloured cheeks.
‘How could I not? You, yourself pointed out how handsome he is. And agreeable. Many times.’
‘Yes, I suppose I did,’ Georgina frowned slightly before continuing, ‘but you know, I simply cannot find out anything about his family.’
‘It’s a delicate subject,’ Penelope observed. ‘Being an orphan must be difficult, and it’s amazing to hear he has no other kin to speak of, save a brother.’
‘Yes, I thought so, too. That’s why I have sent a note to my aunt in London to see what she can find out about Mr Heath Lockwood.’
‘Georgina, you didn’t!’ Georgina shrugged, looping her arm around Penelope’s. ‘Of course I did. Father would not want someone of questionable character staying in our home, I am sure. And as for Mr Lockwood, well, there is no point keeping secrets — if he has any. Everyone knows secrets always come out in the end.’
Something about the way Georgina said that made Penelope feel uneasy, her stomach performing a small flip in the pit of her belly. But she ignored it, spying a bright orange rose bloom and hurrying across the lawns to inhale its scent. ‘Look!’ she cried, ‘Isn’t it marvellous? I’ve not seen one this colour before.’
Georgina eyed it sadly. ‘That bush was Mama’s favourite. It hasn’t bloomed since she passed away. I think it has been in mourning, too.’
Penelope felt for her cousin. ‘You miss her still?’
‘Every day,’ Georgina nodded, ‘I miss her counsel and advice. She would know exactly what to do about Mr Lockwood.’
‘I’m not sure anything needs to be done.’
‘Oh Penelope, you are so naive!’ Georgina admonished. ‘Of course there is everything to be done. Mama would find out in an instant who he was, where he came from, who his parents were, and how much income he has.’
‘Well…’ ‘Mama would work him out well enough,’ Georgina continued confidently, ‘and advise whether he is good company to keep — or a good beau to pursue.’
‘I think it’s best to make a judgement when it’s not influenced by things such as money and family,’ Penelope said thoughtfully. ‘We should decide his character based on manners and countenance.’
Georgina sniffed. ‘Well, based on your theory we should all adore Mr Lockwood.’
‘Your father is a good, sensible man,’ Penelope continued, ignoring Georgina’s sarcasm, ‘and a good judge of character. He doesn’t seem to have any objections to Mr Lockwood, and neither does Harry.’
‘Harry would invite a tramp into the house if he thought it would upset me and give him a laugh,’ Georgina replied. ‘I’m not sure Harry is a good judge of character at all. But you are right about Father. He seems just as taken as the rest of us.’
‘Well, there you are,’ Penelope said, pleased and somewhat surprised by her eagerness to defend a man she barely knew. ‘And don’t forget you were singing his praises only a few days ago.’
‘I suppose I was. Still, I look forward to hearing from my aunt,’ Georgina added, ‘and I’m sure you are, too, my dear cousin. Despite your protests of good manners and countenance being enough!’
They had made their way back to the house when Penelope felt the slightest breeze rustle her skirts. She paused and turned, her arms traced with goosebumps.
‘What is it?’ Georgina asked. Penelope’s eyes scanned the wide expanse of lawn: the gardens, the hedgerows, the rose garden and the late, splendorous orange bloom. Nothing. There was nothing to make her uneasy, nothing to suggest anyone was there. Turning, she smiled at Georgina, pushing to the back of her mind the sudden chill, the inexplicable anxiety in her stomach, and the feeling they were being watched. ‘Nothing. It’s nothing at all.’